The Last Goodbye
by TASHAx
Summary: “Tomorrow…tomorrow, I’m taking my troop into the inner circle.” No. No, Ron, please…please don’t leave me. Hermione and Ron and thier Last Goodbye.


**The Last Goodbye**

Hermione Granger felt waters of grief and sorrow gliding across the surface of her dark brown eyes - making them look glassy and jewel-bright in the dingy room that was lit only by candlelight. His hand rubbed a soft, undemanding circle on her delicate collar bone. His penetrating blue eyes, staring intently at her shoulders, how her pale, grey-ish skin was pulled taut over her prominent bones. His red-gold hair gleamed dark auburn in the dead of night when all that was there to brighten the world was that of the shimmer of a dull, flickering flame.

He wanted to wipe those tears away, but knew the words to come next would only stain her face more so with the tattoos of ever present tear tracks. Taking a deep breath, Ron exhaled, his chocolate and whiskey tainted breath washing over her naked person, goose bumps rising up along her arms.

"Hermione." his voice was softly spoken but firm.

"Wuh-what?" she stammered, feeling unable to hook his gaze as she once used to.

_Hate to feel the love between us die.  
But it's over  
Just hear this and then I'll go :  
You gave me more to live for,  
More than you'll ever know._

"Tomorrow…tomorrow, I'm taking my troop into the inner circle." Her eyes widened in fear and tears, unnoticed by the brunette, pelted from her chocolaty orbs to her sunken cheeks. He couldn't leave her. Harry was never around. Ginny was dead. Neville working constantly. All friends and family either gone from this world at the hand of a Death Eater or banished from her because of a Death Eater and their wicked doings…and now, now Ron…did he love her no more? Was that it? Was the flicker of ardour he once felt for her extinguished. They were so close to finishing this war. So. Damn. Close. There was no need for him to go…

"_No. _No, Ron, please…please don't leave me. If-when your gone, I won't be able to, to keep sane…you're my only consolation in this whole dam world and I won't let you take that away from me!"

"Hermione, I have to go. Have to. Harry's counting on me. My troop's the only one big enough and full enough of healthy Aurors to fight long enough to do some damage to _him. _If I don't do this…who will?"

But reason was not entering her mind. She was safe beneath her lover's body, his skin melding softly into hers and now he wanted to rip away that safe place. That comfort zone she had bubbled herself in. "So, just send your troops! Send the whole freaking department for all I care! I won't let you go, Ronald Weasley! I won't."

He smiled softly, fondly, at her thin face and traced the outline of her pale lips with his long, freckled finger. "'Mione, you're so beautiful and you gave me more riches than I could ever hope for in the time we've shared together."

She pulled his forehead down to meet her own, screwing up her eyes and pushing her nose into his own, her tears mingling with the ones now running discreetly down his war-hardened face. "Please. Oh Merlin, Ron, please. I'm so sorry our souls met in such hideous circumstances."

Ron felt slightly taken aback…was she suggested that she was actually _in _love with him? Sure, he knew she loved him…but in love with him? Was it possible…and why now? Why make this admonition so close to the end?

"Lord, Hermione, understand…please, understand…" he trailed off, finishing the sentence silently in his mind, _…you made my life more than you can ever even imagine._

_This is our last embrace,  
Must I dream and always see your face?  
Why can't we overcome this wall?  
Baby, maybe it is just because I didn't know you at all_

She was a fool. A fool for letting her heart feel and claim more than it's share. She knew they were at war and still had allowed herself to get caught up in a whirlwind romance with a friend…a friend to whom that was all she was ever sure to be. _Friends._ Friends that fucked one another she added coarsely. Instantly regretting the words that had formed within her mind. She pulled her face away from Ron's. His eyes held so much tenderness and when they were together he was so gentle, caressing every part of her as though she were constructed entirely of glass, silk and other such fragile things that one handled with care…

This was probably the last time she'd hold - _embrace _- him as intimately as she was now. Both intertwined with one another. And, to her, this seemed so very unfair - but her heart wouldn't let go, and as he tugged away she sure as hell knew it would break in the process. It wasn't right that every time she closed her eyes all she could see was him - although a war was waging, although friends and foes alike were dying of the ailment that was difference in beliefs all she ever dreamt of was Ron. Being in his arms, listening to his corny jokes that belonged in a pantomime and giggling along with him anyway.

Why wasn't he loving her as much as she loved him? Why wasn't he in love with her and telling her of how he would return to be by her side. Why did they not talk of future happiness and marriage and children…walking their dogs together, cuddling up on the sofa, the wireless playing soothing songs as they cooked Sunday Lunch in their own small kitchen. Because nothing was certain, that's why. Because deep down both knew their would come a time when Ron left for battle and never returned - and secretly, in each of their hearts, both knew it would be Ron that went in to fend off Death Eaters long enough for Harry to put an end to the bloodshed.

He observed her face, serene and streaked with drying tears that had not been wiped away; he didn't want to take away the evidence that showed she cared. Didn't want to obliterate the markings upon her cheeks as they stood for that fact she felt as strongly for him and he did for her. And yet, he would not tell her. He would keep it a closely guarded secret, for no one would know that he loved Hermione Granger. If the words never fell from his lips there would be no evidence, no proof; no false hope for either of them to clutch at. He would not tell her he loved her; would not let her know such a thing on the eve of his demise.

And if she were to return the words he didn't think he'd be able to leave her side, and, after all, he had to - it was his duty and his own path of vengeance; Ginny. Charlie. Luna. Sirius. Dumbledore. And most of all his Dad. All killed by the hands of scum that weren't fit to breathe the same air as those they'd killed. Tomorrow he would take revenge and die in battle, as it was supposed to be. As it had been predicted; just as he fell in the Sixth move of the giant chess board he'd played on while in search for the Philosophers Stone, he would fall the sixth battle he faced against the Dark Lords minions. Tomorrow would be his sixth battle of that year. Tomorrow it would all be over. He had told no one of the prediction Luna had made, as he held her broken body in his arms., though Hermione seemed to sense - to know - that he knew more about why this was to be the last goodbye that night.

"Ron, I-I" his light periwinkle eyes darted up to her dark, mysterious orbs, she was stuttering and her hand had reached up from beneath the woollen covers and was stroking the side of his face, "I love you."

_Kiss me, please, Kiss me  
But kiss me out of desire, babe, and not consolation  
You know, it makes me so angry 'cause I know that in time  
I'll only make you cry, this is our last goodbye._

He looked at her, seeing through her shocked expression and into the depths of her soul; she wasn't lying. And dear sweet Godric and Rowena, he wanted to say the words back to her, wanted to echo the syllables and mirror the truth that had laced her sentence…but he couldn't. He wouldn't. False hope was not something he was willing to give; his 'Mione could have anything in the world but not his pain. Not his tears. Not the words 'I love you' spilling from his reluctant lips.

Her tongue darted out and licked at her thin, pale lips, they were screaming 'Kiss me' to him, and being the coward that he was he refused to explain why he couldn't return the sentiments she so timidly revealed to him. Instead he leant forward to kiss her sounded on the lips, but before he could reached his destination she had pushed him off of her chest and stood quicker than he'd ever seen her move. She was naked and in the muted light he could only make out flashes of her flesh, but he saw enough to make him remember one of the reasons he had fallen for her.

She had always been very petite and trim but now he looked at her and could see almost every bone in her body poking out from her off-white coloured skin. Her hair was long and curly and frizzy, as it had always been. She picked up a blanket that was over the end of what had use to be his sisters bed and she wrapped her svelte form within it. He sat on the bed they had just been lying in, watching her pace.

"Don't you kiss me out of pity, Ronald Weasley." she snapped in a waspish hiss, "you may not feel the same way but don't you dare pity me. One thing I can't stand is undeserved sympathy."

He watched her, a lost expression moulded into his face, "you normally like it when I kiss you, Hermione."

She turned away from his face gasping in shallow breaths as tears raked her body once more. She loved this man. Loved him, damn it and all because some uppity half-blood hated his father so much he was taking it out on the innocents of the world. _Fucking Bastard_. The bed springs groaned quietly as the redhead lifted his tall frame from the mattress, the sheet wrapped securely around his waist. Ron licked hi thumb and forefinger before enclosing them around the dying flame; darkness encircled them with a slight hiss of extinguished fire. Now he could see nothing but sensed his way to where she stood.

His arms span her round and he hugged her hard, embracing her with all his might. He could feel the way she shook with anguish beneath his muscled arms, felt her grip on the sheet slip as her arm swathed around his neck, her wandering fingers tracing the many scars and gashes that littered his back. The tears stopped falling and still he held her tightly, unable to let her go. Her scent of mandarin and sweat, bread and soap was so familiar and intoxicating to him, he felt she a drug and he a junkie.

No more tears would she cry for him that night, nor ever if her could help it. And that is why he'd never tell her he loved her…he didn't want to die knowing her tears salted the earth he was to be laid in, knowing her sobs would be his funeral march, knowing that whispers of her grief would be what lulled him to death.

He led her blindly to the bed, holding her so tightly he feared that he may crush her, that until she reached out her arms, stretched them around him and gripped on just as hard…this was to be heir last goodbye.

_Did you say "no, this can't happen to me,"  
And did you rush to the phone to call?  
Was there a voice unkind in the back of your mind saying,  
"maybe... you didn't know him at all."_

Morning was bright, as usual, and Hermione awoke to the smells and sounds of the Molly Weasley making breakfast for the few remaining Order members, most of them that were there were Healers, like herself, but a few were injured Aurors and in Snape and Malfoy's case spies retreating and revealing newly found information. Her eyes were sore and felt sticky, as did her cheeks; it hit her. Hit her full force like an insulted Hippogriff. He was gone. Her Ron had left her…left her without returning the sentiments that she had so openly informed him of last night.

She sniffed but no more tears fell. After the amount she'd wept last night Hermione Granger doubted she'd ever cry again; of course, that was only wishful thinking. She wondered sometimes that if she'd never gotten her Hogwarts letter…if she been a _normal_, Muggle girl would she have been put through this heartache? Of course not, none of the bad things would have occurred in her life had she laughed at the thought of being a witch and ignored the Owls that kept approaching their house. _Then again, none of the good stuff would have happened either._ She reminded herself, suddenly sick that she'd ever thought that she'd have been better off without meeting all the wonderful witches and wizards she had become friends - more than friends - with.

She would have traded nothing for those giggly nights with Ginny, the sister she'd never had; or the cooking lessons from Mrs Weasley her adventures with Harry and Ron, when they were young and so unburdened; her exploration with Ronald Weasley when he took her from adolescence to womanhood all in one night. No, her memories were priceless, the good and the bad…they made her who she was. Regrets would have been futile; _what ifs _never saved anyone.

Stepping from her bed, feeling numb to the fact she would see Ron again she pulled on a pair of jeans and a large sweater that had once belonged to Sirius…or perhaps it was Lupin, she wasn't sure; clothes were simply shared out now times were so hard. The thoughts of her Ron - the man she loved - dying were pushed far from her brain, denial seeping firmly through her veins, that was, until she reached the Grimmauld place kitchen to find George and his Mother rowing.

"…He will return like every other time he has returned!" screeched the stout woman, her hands placed firmly on her hips, "I will not hear you say no different, George Weasley!"

"Mum," he pleaded, "I'm just trying to warn you; he was different this morning it's like…like he knew he wasn't coming back…"

"Don't be ridiculous, George, I won't have you speaking of such things! Of course he'll return, you know he will; I know he will."

Hermione scrunched up her nose. He would return she said? Maybe Hermione couldn't read him as well as thought…maybe she hadn't known Ronald Weasley as well as she'd liked…but no, that was wrong…that little niggling voice of doubt was wrong…of course she knew Ron; she loved him.

Hermione coughed. Mrs Weasley jumped and George look up at her grimly. Biting her lips the brunette walked up to the two redheads, squeezing George's arm comfortingly before pulling Mrs Weasley into a strong embrace; it had been so many months since someone supported the marvellous woman before her. Leaning her head down to the older woman's ear she muttered "He's not coming back, Molly…I-I know it."

And as though her own words confirmed this, denial was ripped away like piece of spell-o-tape, and by Merlin it stung. Hermione tried to grip at Mrs Weasley's shoulders but found herself sliding to the floor anyway, her hand bunched up in the lavender cardigan. Dry sobs racking her entire body. "Oh! He's not coming back! Never. Ever…and I loved him so much," she screamed loudly, wrapping her arms around her knees…he wasn't returning to her…ever. Never would she feel his breathing her neck as she awoke next to him…or when she was feeling low, no one would he able to pull her into a hug and instantly cause her spirits to soar…no one, because that someone was gone.

Rocking back and fourth on the tiles dry tears refused to fall and grief penetrated every pore of her being; he was dead. She knew it. Knew it. He had to be because eat that precise moment…something inside her seemed to break and her soul felt it was being torn in two.

_Well, the bells out in the church tower chime  
Burning clues into this heart of mine  
Thinking so hard on her soft eyes and the memory  
Of her sighs that, "it's over... it's over..."_

Hermione Granger stood in the Church yard, listening and watching as Ron's coffin was lowered into the ground. Harry stood beside her, Malfoy beside him and countless other names and faces Hermione didn't know nor care about…they were all here to mourn those fallen in the last battle…the battle that had decided the fate of the world; they had won. Harry succeeded. But Hermione, she had never felt there was amore hollow victory…so many people, just ordinary people with beliefs of their own had died…including one Ronald Weasley. The man to break the Book Worm…the man who taught her to show affection and that the greatest knowledge was that of love.

Tears flooded her eyes and she made no attempt to swipe them from her porcelain cheeks; there had been a time when she had been afraid to cry, to show emotion…Ron had taught her you were far weaker by showing none than you were by revealing all - since then she didn't censor her tears - they were nothing to be ashamed of. Particularly when he was shedding them over the man who both fixed and broke her heart; probably intentionally, just like every good thing Ron had done, it had been simply done because it came natural to him to want to help and nurture. He was not the Hero figure that was Harry nor the Martyr that was Draco…he was just Ron, and for that, she loved him.

Someone bumped next to her, glancing up her eyes hit with those of Fred Weasley who looked more serious than she'd ever seen him in her life. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a platinum ring that bore a dark red gem. He lifted her left had and slipped it onto her ring finger.

"Ron gave me this," he started, his voice hushed so that only she could hear, "I know you two never told anyone you were in love, but it was obvious to most, he said I'd know what to do with this when the time was right, and from what George told me of that morning and the couple of weeks proceeding to this day there is no doubt in my mind you're the one Ron wanted me to give this to."

She stared at the expensive jewellery…so if he'd been able to stay, he'd have married her; loved her. "Thank you, Fred…" but he had already returned to his Wife's side clutching her hand desperately as they both leant down to place flowers on Ginny grave.

Grief. Pain. Anguish. Heartache. Anxiety. Fear. It was all over now. The war was finished and they had won…it was over.

"All over." she muttered.

"What did you say, 'Mione?" whispered Harry looking at her concernedly.

She gazed into the crimson stone on her ring for a second before smiling up at him, "it's all over now, Harry, it's all over."

0x-

**Author's Note:** -maniacal laugh- it is finished! My first ever Ron/Hermione, for Connie!

Sorry it had to be tragedy but I can't handle that ship normally…GAH fluffy smut would not have been good for me to write in this paring. No sir-eee.

So, Connie my darling. Here it is…or as you're reading this AFTER the fic, there it was. Hope it was to your liking.

Disclaimer: JK's characters, my plot Jeff Buckley's song. Woo yeah.

Review pour moi si'l vous plait?

Tasha x


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